Say-----WHAT?
by Skaoi
Summary: Chloe finds a use for Lucifer's very talented tongue. Another one-shot. I tried to translate what he says at the bottom, but it's not showing up. Copy/paste into Google translator if you want to know. Shocker - it's naughty.
Chloe Decker scowls at Lucifer Morningstar, tired of his petulance. "I don't care WHAT kind of sex you gave up to come over here. You scammed your way into being my partner. BE my partner, shut the hell up, and get in the damned car."

For his part, Lucifer's eyebrows shoot up almost to his hairline and his mouth drops open a little bit as his favorite detective stalks to the driver's door of the car. His expression changes to a bit of a smirk as she slams the door. Heaving a sigh, he opens the door and gets in. "Really, Detective, I was simply…"

"Shut. Up. Now." She snarls as she slams the car into gear and puts her foot on the gas.

"Very well," he murmurs as he turns to look out the window.

They drive in silence for fifteen minutes before he tries again to speak to her. "What's the case, then? Is the departed at least someone attractive?"

She turns her head just enough to shoot silent daggers at him, so he sighs again. "Fine, Detective. You'll have to speak to me at some point."

They arrive at a mansion with police officers manning the gate. Chloe flashes her badge and they are ushered in to park near an ambulance. A uniformed officer escorts them to the crime scene, where a middle-aged man clearly succumbed to blunt force trauma to the skull. It looks like he was bludgeoned severely with the cracked, heavy crystal vase on the floor next to him. Someone was very angry, apparently.

To the side, a statuesque blonde is crying into her hands as she stood next to another officer who is trying to take a statement.

"Oh, wonderful," grins Lucifer. "I do love a good crime of passion!"

Chloe whirls around, "Seriously? This man is dead and you're having a good time? _Here?_ Go look around the room or something, will you?"

"Fine. Fine, Detective. I'll be a good Devil." He scans the room, his eyes working their way up the long legs of the crying woman. "Hello…" he murmurs to himself as he wanders over. As he approaches, the officer shrugs his shoulders. "Don't bother trying to talk to her until the interpreter gets here," he says. Lucifer looks at him quizzically, "Oh?" "Yeah, she's Russian. Doesn't speak a word of English. None of the women in this house do, actually. We've had to request several translators."

Lucifer allows a slow grin to crawl across his face. "Not to worry, lad. I speak several languages – well - all of them really. Perhaps I may be of assistance?" The officer looks confused and shrugs again, "You're welcome to try. See if she will tell you what happened."

Lucifer nods and steps closer to the blonde. "Excuse me, my dear," he says softly in Russian, "I'm here to help." The crying pauses and she looks up. Large blue eyes, red and swollen from crying, look at him with surprise. "What's your name?" he asks her.

"Katerina," she whispers, her vocal chords sore from crying. Lucifer holds her gaze and carefully takes her hand. "Katerina is a beautiful name," he smiles. Even in distress, she blushes. "Thank you."

He gives her hand an encouraging squeeze. "My apologies, Katerina, but I need to ask you what happened." She nods and begins to talk slowly.

After looking over the body and the apparent weapon, Chloe looks around for Lucifer. She finds him chatting up the tall blonde who was crying when they entered the room, and feels her blood pressure skyrocket. _Jesus Christ. He WOULD be trying to get laid at a crime scene._ Rolling her eyes so hard it hurt, she stalks to the other side of the room. As she gets close enough to hear them speaking, she opens her mouth to call him out then quickly shuts it. _He's not speaking English_. Confused, she listens as Lucifer stops on occasion to quietly say something in English to the officer next to him, who dutifully takes down some notes. Then her partner returns his attention to the other woman.

Lucifer finally notices Chloe standing a few steps away then says a few soft words to the crying woman. She nods and walks away with the officer. Lucifer looks down at Chloe, "Yes, Detective? You need something?"

Chloe points to the retreating woman then back to Lucifer. "What language was that?" He smirks, "Katerina only speaks Russian. I was helping your comrade in blue take her statement." "I didn't know you speak Russian," she replies. His smirk turns into a full grin. "You never asked, but I speak EVERY language, Detective. Useful, don't you think?"

The detective rolls her eyes. "Sure, you do, Lucifer. Whatever. Anyway, thanks for helping out." "Oh, I'm not done yet, Detective. Reportedly there are a number of ladies here that need to give statements and none of them speak English."

Chloe shrugs and turns away. "Well, I'm glad that you're putting that Russian you took in college to use, then. Thanks."

His grin somehow gets bigger, "Katerina is the only one who speaks Russian. The other ladies speak French, Mandarin, Portuguese and Wolof, of all things. I haven't spoken Wolof in ages. I'm quite looking forward to it."

She turns back to him, a heavy scowl taking over her face. "You can't possibly speak all those languages, Lucifer." "I certainly can, Detective. And I do. I have to, of course. What kind of Devil can't communicate with the miscreants he's been tasked with torturing? I mean, really? Impossible to find out someone's dark and naughty little desires if you can't understand them, don't you think?"

Chloe puts her hand up, "Okay. Fine. Somehow you're a polyglot. Got it. Did Miss Russia have any insight?" Lucifer nods, "She did, actually. She was very nervous about the police being here. It seems her papers might not be in order as she's some sort of mail-order bride or such. The other ladies she mentioned may also be in the same situation."

The detective walks back to the corpse on the floor to take a close look at the damage. She frowns. "Katerina didn't look strong enough to hit him this hard. Did she say anyone else was in the room?" "Not yet, Detective, I believe we were about to find that out when you began looming with a threatening scowl. She clammed right up. You can be quite intimidating, you know."

Chloe arches a brow at him, "Can you talk to her again. Get her to open up?" Lucifer's eyes dance mischievously, "Of course I can, darling. I'm a rather cunning linguist, you know." "What?" Her face flushes as realization dawns on her. "For crying out loud. Just…Go."

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly with Lucifer questioning the remaining ladies and Chloe gathering evidence. At the end of the day, they meet at the cruiser. "Well," she asks. "Learn anything interesting?" He puts his hands in his pockets and dips his shoulder as he steps forward. "Well not really. I learned that he dressed the French girl up like a maid. Unimaginative and BORING. Lian from China was some sort of circus acrobat, and…"

Chloe holds up a hand. "Ugh. Stop. Never mind. I'll just read the notes." "Aren't you the least bit curious, Detective?" he grins. She scowls a voiceless reply and he quickly gets into the car before she can drive off without him again.

They drive toward Lux and Chloe actually does get a little bit curious about something. "Where did you learn to speak all those languages? Some sort of immersion classes? Who speaks Wolof, anyway?" "Humans in Senegal and Gambia, primarily," he responds. "And as for where I learned language, it's one of my God-given gifts. Like my charm. To which you remain infuriatingly immune."

Chloe ignores the last bit of his comment but carries on. "So, you speak all languages and, as The Devil, you can speak in whatever language or with whatever accent you choose, right?" He grins, "you're catching on, Detective. I like this. What's your question, then?" he asks eagerly. "Want me to whisper French into your ear? Gaelic, perhaps?" He leans forward with a saucy grin. "Ba mhaith liom a ithe cosúil le cón uachtar reoite agat*," he purrs. She blushes furiously and frowns, "I'm not sure what, exactly, it is you just said, but I'm pretty sure the answer is NO." He shrugs, the grin never leaving his face. "Your loss, I promise. I've always been a big fan of Latin as well. It's the ultimate Romance language, you know. Volo autem sub nomine meo, me clamans.**" The gleam in his eyes is somehow even more mischievous than it was a moment ago.

 _Damn._ A shiver crawls up her spine and she glances over, still blushing; still frowning. "Stop that. But, really, how did you decide on a British accent? I mean, you live here in Los Angeles; why not sound like a local? Is it that whole 'bad guys have British accents' thing?"

Lucifer cocks an eyebrow and fidgets with the cuff on his shirt. "I'm not a BAD guy, Detective, just the victim of a well-funded smear campaign. But if you _must_ know, this is a _Welsh_ accent. I picked it up watching a performer on the telly. Very popular with ladies, apparently. They would throw undergarments and such onto his stage. It was marvelous." He flashes a cheeky grin.

Chloe coughs a laugh and shoots him a quick look, "Seriously? You picked up your accent watching Tom Jones on television?" She pulls into a parking lot, takes the car out of gear and proceeds to laugh until tears are streaming from her eyes. "That is the funniest damned thing I have heard in forever."

Lucifer raises his eyebrows in consternation, "exactly what is amusing about this, Detective?"

Her laughter has turned into a guffaw as she points at him. "I may have to believe you just got here five years ago if you didn't know what a cheesy cliché Tom Jones is." She collapses against the door of the cruiser in helpless laughter and he can't help but grinning back at her.


End file.
